Dating Snape's Daughter
by ThePotionMaster'sMistress
Summary: What's Fred Weasley to do when he falls in love with Snape's daughter?
1. Chapter 1

Persephone, Severus realized late that evening, had not been outside the house in a weeks. A painfully shy creature by nature, as well as the genetics he'd cursed her with, the young lady much preferred the comfort of her bedroom and the solace of her books to that of the elegant dance halls and high-class balls her peers so favored.

That such a comely maiden was so reclusive, Narcissa lamented often, was nothing short of a great shame of wastefulness. For, his fatherly bias set aside, Persephone honestly was a lovely little thing to look upon. Freshly seventeen, her alabaster face shone with radiance only youth could provide, offering up a flawless backdrop for her large, black eyes.

He'd always adored the little imp's eyes, from the very moment of her birth. Whilst his were ugly and harsh, Persephone's were wont to sparkle quite brilliantly, giving off the impression that she housed a myriad of stars within those dark orbs. They were, Severus reflected with a small smile, his mother's eyes. And what a comfort that small feature afforded him, for his mother had been lost to him when he was barely more than a boy.

He was no less grateful, either, that Prince genetics had overwhelmed her being, casting aside the garish features that marred the Snape line in both looks and temperaments. For her nose was not a crooked beak, but rather smooth and aristocratic, no real fault detectable along its traces. In regards to Persephone's lips, they were the full pucker of his long-departed mother, just as willing as hers had been to peck his cheek in unconditional affection.

And so very unlike the disgusting mop atop Severus's head, his daughter's hair was a glory for all to behold. Four feet of undamaged loose waves, black and shimmering, tumbled from her roots and not the tinniest bit of that mane was prone to the buildup of grease or oil.

But the Prince line was not free from its downsides, either. While his Father's bloodline offered up an endless string of strong, robust women and men, his Mother's ancestry only offered up chronic sickliness and fragility in the matter of health. And indeed, the poor girl was very often ill, stricken with whatever random illness happened to be coursing its way through either the Muggle or Magical World. As a rather unfortunate result, Persephone seemed unable to put on any adequate weight or muscle. Much like himself, she stood a frail little thing, completely devoid of any real body fat to keep her warm.

Simply put, there was no denying whose child she was. If the dark eyes and adoration of brewing and reading were not enough to convince anybody who might inquire, the way Persephone was so shamelessly devoted to those she loved would have been enough to staunch even the most ardent of deniers. For as much as he had loved Lily, Severus's affection towards his daughter outweighed that in immeasurable amounts. An adoration which Persephone happily reciprocated, suffering not a single bad word to be said about him in her presence.

A command that was easily enough enforced. Because, just like himself, Persephone was a very skilled parishioner of magic. It was with relative ease that she could parry the attacks of many twice her age, whether it be with her wand or mental manipulations, for her skills as an occlumens were very refined from years of his tutelage. The number that had stood foolish enough to rile Persephone into such fiery passions that they had felt her wrath were few, a happy circumstance helped along by the fact that she was tenderhearted and very slow to anger.

Personality wise, aside from the affliction of rather serious shyness, Persephone had inherited his brilliance to boot. The girl had taken to her studies quickly, like a fish to water, learning to read at the tender age of four just as he had. There simply hadn't been a Muggle School around that could keep up with her rigorous appetite for knowledge, so Severus himself had tutored the dear child, ever amazed at her proficiency.

And when the sad time came that Severus could no longer stay at home with Persephone, he'd shipped her off to stay with her Godmother during the school year, entrusting the serious matter of her education to whatever tutors Narcissa saw fit and deserving enough of such a high honor.

It wasn't until it was too late that Severus realized his cloistering of Persephone had proved detrimental to her being properly socialized, for genetics alone could only account for so much of her bashfulness. But it was with good intentions that Severus had kept his daughter tucked away the majority of her early life. There had been a bloody war waging about them at the time and, in his fear, Severus had reasoned that it was best to keep the girl secret from all but a very select few souls. After all, it had been very commonplace for the people in those dark days (on either side, in nearly equal measure) to harm the children of their enemies in vengeance, knowing that such a blow stung more than any curse imaginable.

So he had dared not entrust her keeping to anybody but himself or Narcissa, not even into the welcoming arms of Hogwarts. Safe though it was, the very thought of Persephone being pressured into the same court of Purebloods Draco belonged to had made his skin crawl to no slight degree. Even now, the very idea that his soft-hearted daughter might somehow become corrupted with the ugly prejudices and cruel traditions running rampant in her Godfamily, worried him endlessly. He wanted Persephone to forever remain the sweet girl she was, a very likeness to the Mother and Best Mate that he had loved so fiercely.

It came as no small relief that Persephone appeared the share the same sentiments in regards to Pureblooded society. It was not without a sneer of distaste that she received an invitation to take tea, either from one heiress or another, and it was not without any small amount of grumbling that she wrote back accepting when all polite excuses were exhausted. The men in high society fared only slightly better, due only to the fact that they were more than willing to discuss politics and other such similar subjects with Persephone, whereas the ladies would often adhere to societal norms and do little more than gossip and chatter away endlessly.

Were it not for Narcissa's and Lucius's constant interference, and Draco's pestering, Severus would have more than happily obliged (and fostered) his young daughter's desire for solitude. Even tonight, should she but ask, Severus would grant Persephone permission to flake out on her plans to meet Draco and their mutual acquaintances in Hogsmeade. She'd gotten a new book after all, a very pressing matter one should always attend to straight away. And, if that were not a good enough reason to convince anybody, the fact that Pansy would be amongst the group being met certainly was. As much as Severus despised Black's very being, Persephone disdained Pansy, having even gone so far as to split the pug-like girl's lip at a rather disastrous ninth birthday party of Draco's.

But, alas, Persephone was much too selfless a being to retract the promise she'd made to Draco. New book or not, the bachelorette would oblige the wishes of the boy she considered a brother, her happiness be damned.

Sure enough, when the time arrived, Persephone came gliding into the living room. A decidedly resigned look was sprawled across her youthful face, making her look as if she were fated to meet a hangman and not a small group of her contemporaries. It was as she gave a quick glance to the clock in the room that his trademark scowl marred her face, prompting Severus to quickly bolster her mood back to its usual peaceful level.

"It's only a few hours, Treasure," He soothed, "And then you'll be home to your book."

The very book in question had been Narcissa's bargaining chip, enabling the crafty blonde to coax her Goddaughter out of the house. Having always had quite the penchant and talent for matchmaking, the Malfoy Matriarch had been all the more earnest in her assertions that Persephone _not_ decline this particular invitation, for a fair bet of meddling was set to be done that evening by her own hand.

That the Black sister should interfere in such a way came as no surprise to Severus. The fact that a girl such as Persephone should have spent that last seventeen years without falling in love, rattled the youngest Black sister like nothing else, and it came as a personal affront to her that the child she helped raised was missing out on such a fantastic part of her youth. As such, Narcissa had spared no expense or exertions in lining up dates for her goddaughter.

Had the woman not been so particular and careful in scanning any potential candidates for the role, Severus would have promptly put a stop to that particular bit of womanly meddling. But as of yet, Narcissa had only picked the most respectable of young men, many of whom Persephone still remained in friendly contact with, even after having turned down their offers for coupledom.

Tonight the fortunate fellow happened to be a fresh victim, never before having been singled out by Narcissa for the important task of wooing Persephone. Why that might have been, remained unknown to Severus, for the aristocrat had always been a very welcome guest to Malfoy Manor when their annual balls were being held.

Whatever the reason, Asa Greengrass was a perfectly viable candidate. Of a study build, the former Hufflepuff had graduated four years ago, the book enthusiast being one of the few students Severus favored outside his house. An unassuming intellect, quiet and polite, Severus had high hopes that this night might be the one in which Persephone met the person in whom her soul delighted. For just as loving Lily had drawn him from his cocoon and made him a fully-realized being, Severus had hopes the same experience might work the same wonders with Persephone.

"Will I like Asa?" Persephone broke the relative silence of the house, speaking in the drawl familiar to their family.

"You like everybody." Severus reminded, sipping his coffee.

"Will I enjoy his company?" She corrected, having smiled softly at his teasing.

"I wager you will." Severus agreed. "He's a young man who enjoys his books."

"But is he kind?" She pestered, that one factor having always been the most important to her.

"I dare say the Sorting Hat put him in Hufflepuff for a reason." He comforted.

"I wish Narcissa would learn that a girl can be happy by herself." Persephone sighed, looking longingly back upstairs.

"When she met Lucius, she was the happiest she'd ever been." Severus replied. "She wants that for you, too."

"Oh, Papa." She smiled. "You're the only man I will never need."

"You're being silly." Severus scolded, heatlessly. "But thank you, all the same."

"Narcissa shouldn't worry." Persephone insisted. "Someday my prince shall come."

It was an often occurrence that his beloved daughter spoke in such a self-assured confidence, gazing off into space with a dreamy look in her eyes as she did so. In manner much like Luna Lovegood, his child reasoned and believed all manners of things, with the innocence and unchecked surety that usually graces only young children.

But while Luna was nothing more than an admittedly odd girl, Persephone had some sort of basis behind her behaviors. Whether by blessing or curse, depending on who you might ask, the teenager had been born with a predisposition of prophetic dreaming. Unhelpfully vague though they often were, she spent great hours deciphering in them many hopes and dreams that often came to be. And all this, without the nonsensical ramblings and attention-seeking squawking that seers like Sybil so favored.

"I have no doubt." Severus agreed. "But I should think you more deserving of a king."

"I would just as happily take a Pauper, if that's what came to be."

"Pauper of King, or anything in between, you'll have my blessing so long as he loves you."

Persephone grinned at him in reply, revealing straight rows of pearly teeth as the gesture lit up her entire face. Oh, how that gesture served to warm his hardened heart. For if nothing else good remained to be said about him, the undisputable fact that a being as pure-hearted as she was loved him, and loved him unconditionally, was more than enough to see him through the hardest trials of his life. Persephone was his saving grace, certainly, for had it not been for her birth the war would have claimed him as its victim long ago.

"How pretty you look." He admired, with no worry at all about spoiling her with his endless barrage of compliments. One could not spoil such an uncorruptable soul, after all.

And indeed, how pretty she looked. She stood before him the spitting image of his mother, before the many years of abuse had aged her prematurely and so very harshly. Had he the desire to move from his comfortable perch, Severus would have grabbed one of the old photo albums he'd inherited and flipped through its pages until he found his mother's graduation picture, only to find it needless as her doppelganger stood before him. Dressed quite fetchingly, he might add, in a lovely set of pastel blue robes made from the softest cashmere money could buy.

The garment had been Narcissa's gift to Persephone on her most recent birthday, and they served wonderfully to make her appear far less ghostly and frail as she often appeared to be. She donned another gift as well, this one from Lucius. It was a beautiful silver hairpin, tucked happily away into her hair, serving to keep the mass secured neatly it its bun.

Had it not been for Severus's gift of passing down the cauldron ladle his mother had once used, and then passed down to him on his seventeenth birthday, the hairpin would have certainly been her favorite gift. But, as it stood, the girl favored that particular bit of jewelry almost as much as her books and potions. Not a day passed that she hadn't one in her hair, having carefully spent a goodly amount of time selecting a piece from the enormous collection she'd amassed since toddlerhood.

"If only Oma could see you." Severus commented.

"She does." Persephone provided, in a knowing matter that implied she could actually see her grandmother before them.

"Let's not get so sentimental." Severus dismissed, handing over to his daughter a handful of coins. Should Asa decide not to be a gentleman and provide for her, Severus wanted her to be prepared, no matter how absurdly small that danger might be.

She tucked the currency away in a small pastel blue purse, one Draco had gifted her so very many years ago. Worn and tearing in several places, only kept together by the aid of magic, Persephone refused to part with it and rarely opted to use any other.

"I should be off, Papa." Persephone sighed, looking decidedly downcast.

They were to meet at Madame Puddifoot's for a spot of tea at half-past noon, and just like him, Persephone was never one to be anything but early to an event.

"Try your hardest to have fun, Treasure." Severus encouraged, rising to kiss her on the cheek. "And do be careful."

"For you, I'll try." She smiled, kissing his cheek in return. "And I'm always careful."

"Shall I expect you back for supper?"

Severus asked, knowing that the group she was spending time with liked to branch off after tea to go shopping in groups according to their preferences. And, if all went as well as Narcissa and he hoped it might, Asa would steal her away for the greater part of the evening and take her to dine alone for supper.

"Likely not." She scowled. "I promised Draco that I would stay until everyone else had left."

"A little socialization is good for you." Severus reminded. "Even _I_ had a small gaggle of friends."

"I have Draco." She retorted.

"Oh, Persephone." Severus sighed. "I want the world for you."

"But I've already got the world," She insisted, "At home, with you."

And with that Persephone kissed his cheek again, leaving behind a notable smear of red lipstick. Then she glided a feet away, apparating at a distance to keep from assaulting his ears with the soft cracks that form of transportation afforded.


	2. Chapter 2

Given that the Christmas Holiday had just begun, Hogsmeade was flooded with hyper students and parents alike, jostling and shoving each other in the direction of already crowded shops in the hopes that they might finally finish their Christmas shopping. As it was, minutes after her arrival, several unchaperoned tykes had run across her feet with their muddy boots. They had giggled quite proudly at the fact, before they caught sight of their harried-looking mother's approach. They had taken off quickly, having heard quite easily the woman's hollered promises to take a switch to their backsides if they didn't behave.

Needless to say, it had been no easy task for one as meek as her to arrive at Madame Puddifoot's on time. The crowds had refused to move aside and allow her passage through the village, and even the poor unfortunate aurors who'd been tasked with the unpleasant assignment of crowd-control that year had to assert themselves with threats and hexes to make any real headway.

By the time Persephone had actually made it to the small shopfront, her patience had worn thin. The Holiday stress had brought out the worst of people, and she'd suffered no small amount as a result. Her semi-new boots had been scuffed a shameful amount, and the hemline of her robes destroyed and frayed. A rather unfortunate occurrence, as Narcissa would surely have a rather lengthy lecture awaiting her about the merits of being assertive once she noticed the sorry state of the garment.

The only blessing that afternoon, had come at the hand of her Godfather. Never one to be thrifty with his vast mountains of wealth, especially when it came to spoiling his family, Lucius had reserved the entire shop for them at quite a handsome price. Which meant that aside from the small group awaiting her company, nobody else would be able to further sour her mood.

Persephone smiled politely as she walked inside, hiding her distaste for the décor around her. It was hopelessly tacky and frilly beyond reason, serving to offend the eyes of anybody who possessed even the smallest amounts of taste. That such a group like the one she was meeting opted to choose this preppy of a place meant only one thing; Tracy Davis was in attendance, and had likely nagged everyone into meeting at her favorite place.

"Ah, Ms. Snape."

Madame Puddifoot hurried over and removed Persephone's cloak, hanging it carefully alongside all the other winter outwear of varying expense and color. The matronly woman's brown eyes twinkled brightly as she babbled on and on, pouring out compliment upon compliment for the Goddaughter of the wealthiest family in England.

"Thank you." Persephone smiled brightly, finally getting a word in when the shopkeeper stopped for a breath.

"What'll you have, dear?"

"I'll take a cup of white tea, please."

"I'll have that to you straight away, Ms. Snape."

"Take your time." Persephone allowed, entirely uncomfortable with all the fuss being paid to her.

The brunette just nodded in a placating manner, before promptly scurrying off at a speed impressive given her girth and the cramped quarters surrounding her. Resigning herself to the fact that she'd be receiving special treatment, Persephone made her way to the round table at the far back where the various couples she was meeting sat smooshed together; Draco with his dog, Blaise with Tracey (his flavor of the week), Theodore with Moira Selwyn and Crabbe with Millicent.

And, sitting all by his lonesome, was a towheaded gentleman just a little older than the rest of them. He held a small book in his large hands, looking down at the yellowing pages with a rather attractive pair or bottle-green eyes.

At her arrival the boys all stood politely while the girls squealed their greetings. Persephone smiled back at each of them, the warm expression faltering only slightly when her gaze fell on Pansy. The two of them had never gotten on very well, after all, and the forced smile she awarded the nasty heiress was more than returned with equal amounts of fake affection.

"Persephone," Draco drawled, putting a hand on the newcomers shoulder, "This is Asa Greengrass."

"It's a pleasure." Asa purred, kissing her cheek. "I've heard much about you."

"Likewise." Persephone agreed, allowing him to help her into a chair.

"Asa works in the department of mystery." Draco elaborated, ever proficient at starting up conversation when the opportunity presented itself.

"How exciting that must be." Persephone smiled.

"That's certainly the word for it." Asa laughed, unable to go into more detail as his career required a great deal of secrecy.

"Persephone knows all about the Ministry." Pansy pipped up, an underhanded look splaying across her pasty face.

No doubt it was a dig against her father, said man having just undergone a rigorous round of questioning after the events of the Triwizard Tournament. Somehow or other, the media had gotten hold of that information, wasting no time or effort in publicizing the fact to the world. Even the Quibbler, nonsensical that it was, offered up the opinion that her Father was a ghost- a theory that Xenophilius felt perfectly explained why the Hogwarts Professor seemed to always evade arrest.

"I do." Persephone agreed sweetly. "The Minister, himself, recently offered me a job."

"The minister?" Moira exclaimed softly. "I hadn't heard."

The curly-haired teen was happy at the news, but also rather shocked. For it was very uncommon in their social circle for gossip of that sort not to make its round very quickly. As it stood the job offer was three days past, which was more than enough time for such exciting news to have run its course.

In testament to her character, Pansy's face fell when her insult fell short of its mark. Glowering down at her mug of cocoa, she scowled, no doubt plotting her next bit of cattiness in advance.

"For what sort of job?" Tracy inquired, looking bored with the conversation as it didn't involve her.

"As a personal translator." Persephone answered, swiping a biscuit from Draco's plate.

"A translator." Asa repeated, clearly interested.

"Oh, yes." She smiled, but didn't elaborate, not wanting to sound like a braggart.

"Persephone is fluent in seven languages." Draco provided. "And quite proficient in two others."

"That's impressive." Asa gaped, turning his entire body toward her.

"Well," Pansy pipped up, "She _does_ have a lot of time on her hands."

Millicent, sensing her best mate could use some assistance, sat up a bit straighter after sharing a conspiratory look with Pansy.

"She doesn't get out that often." The larger girl confided, as if that bit of information were some carefully guarded secret.

"I'd imagine she's quite busy." Asa dismissed, shrugging his shoulders.

"A fair enough statement." Blaise joined in. "She works more than a man does."

The dark-skinned boy frowned after making his remark, harboring the old-fashioned prejudices that dictated a true lady shouldn't work outside the home unless it was of the utmost necessity.

"Have you reached a decision about the job offer yet?" Draco asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

"I declined, actually." Persephone frowned. "I'd much rather stick with my tutoring."

"So you tutor, then?" Asa inquired.

"I do." She nodded. "I have quite the knack for educating."

"Perhaps the career of a professor awaits you." Asa offered, wiping scone crumbs from his fingers onto a frilly napkin.

"I would _love_ to teach alongside my father." Persephone agreed, grinning at the very thought.

"What would be your subject of choice?" Asa asked.

"Potions." She answered easily. "But seeing as Papa already teaches that, I'd opt for Arithmancy."

"So, Hogwarts would be your school of choice?"

"Definitely." She agreed. "I never like to be too far from Papa."

"And she really never had the chance to attend as a student." Moira reminded, checking the quality of her makeup in the reflection of a spoon.

"I wish you had." Asa flirted shyly. "You'd have been a very welcome addition."

"Speaking of welcome additions," Pansy interrupted, "Mother's asked me to invite you all to brunch tomorrow."

"Her family is hosting the Carrows." Millecent provided, earning a nod of approval from Pansy.

"The Carrows?" Theodore wrinkled his nose, never one to speak more than a few words at a time.

"Yeah," Crabbe grunted, having stopped shoveling his face full of food long enough to speak, "Alecto and Amicus."

"I _know_ who they are." Theodore assured, looking on Crabbe in distaste.

"We had them as houseguests once." Moira grimaced.

"I'm sure it was quite the pleasure." Tracey reasoned.

"No, actually." Moira refuted. "Alecto hexed my younger sister."

"Flossy _did_ spill red wine on her robes." Pansy defended. "Her _white_ robes."

"Flossy was seven." Moira hissed.

"They've a bit of a temper, yes." Pansy conceded, "But one can hardly blame them once you consider the circumstances."

"And what circumstances are those?" Theodore challenged, looking decidedly cross.

"Well," Pansy started, "Our society is in _such_ dire straits. It's only natural that people are getting frustrated and upset."

"Dire strait?" Persephone scoffed.

"Well, yes." Millicent agreed, oblivious to the fact Persephone had been mocking her friend's logical fallacy. "Quite dire."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to clarify." Asa frowned, beginning to look unsettled.

"For starters," Pansy began, "Purebloods are starting to marry all sorts of rift-raft."

"If we're not careful there won't be any true Pureblood families left." Blaise agreed, looking disgusted at the very thought.

"Disgusting." Crabbe agreed, greedily eyeing Tracey's slice of pumpkin pie.

"Speaking of disgusting matters," Blaise sneered, "Do you all remember Lupin?"

"That dirty werewolf?" Moira wrinkled her nose, giving voice to her one true prejudice.

"Yes." Blaise agreed, leaning back in his chair. "Anyways, I heard the mongrel was engaged."

"To whom?" Tracey pressed, surrendering her dessert to Crabbe.

"Nymphadora Tonks." Blaise spat out the name.

"Why is that so upsetting?" Theodore demanded. "She's not even a pureblood."

"Don't you think she's dishonoring the Black family by marrying a beast?" Pansy pressed, clearly unnerved at having her views challenged.

"I don't see how it's our business." Persephone defended. "We don't even know the girl."

"Obviously _you_ could never understand." Pansy sneered.

"And why's that?" Persephone challenged.

"Because you have a half-blood for a father." The pug-faced girl answered easily.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Persephone demanded, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, you can hardly expect the daughter of a _half-blood_ to understand such complex matters as the functioning of society."

"Are you saying my Godfather is stupid?" Draco hissed, rounding on Pansy.

"Not at all." Pansy defended, grabbing hold of her boyfriend's hand. "I'm just saying that he'll _never_ understand our ways, given what he is."

" _What_ he is?" Theodore repeated. "He's not an animal."

"You act as if I compared him to a mudblood." Pansy frowned, holding her hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, but I don't appreciate you maligning my Godfather's character." Draco growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Draco," Pansy beseeched, "You've got to look at things through the proper lenses."

"What are you going on about?" Draco demanded.

"Think about it." Pansy coaxed. "There's a reason nobody from high-society has married professor Snape."

"What's marriage got to do with this?" Moira wondered, a sour look on her face.

"Because, adequate a man though he is, respectable women know how important it is to keep their bloodlines pure." Pansy explained slowly. "If Professor Snape were up to par-"

"Perhaps someone should have let your mother knows such things," Persephone snarled, rising hotly to her feet, " _Before_ she went and lay with the dog that sired you."

Pansy gaped quite hideously, but didn't have time for a retort as Persephone stomped hotly away.


	3. Chapter 3

Fred Weasley, despite popular belief, _was_ actually capable of feeling stress. And while it was not often that he was cursed with such an unpleasant emotion, whenever Fred _did_ manage to succumb to such a state of anxiety, the emotion hit him hard and clung unto his being without end until that problem at had been rectified.

He was in such a state now, one setback away from having a complete meltdown. Having always believed that money would be of no issue if he and George did what they loved, the Twins had been completely unprepared to find they were hemorrhaging money. And Fred, for the life of him, could not even begin to understand what that might be.

Business was booming! They were quickly on their way to putting Zonko's out of business! There hadn't even been a single day since the store opened that it went without a steady stream of customers. In fact, for the first few months, people had queued up and waited for a good two hours just to get a chance to shop.

Given all that, Fred found it absolutely absurd that the store should be losing money instead of gaining it. With a frustrated growl, Fred made his way through the freshly swept floor to the far back. Kicking open a closet door, he stomped into the mockery of an office then slumped own into the only chair. Bending over a tiny desk, as that was all they could fit into the closet, he glared down at the stacks of paper littering the furniture.

A particularly serious-looking letter had been tossed atop the untidy heap. Written in bright red ink, it stood out from the rest of the mess of bills and other tedious paperwork. Fred quickly shoved it away, having no need to see it again. He'd already spent an angry hour ranting around the store about the surprise bill- furious to have discovered they were a full three months behind in paying off their property taxes and that legal action would soon be taken if they didn't pay off what they owed the ministry.

Choosing not the stress himself any further by pouring over the small mountain of bills on his desk, he reached atop the pile and grabbed the only piece of unopened mail. Tearing it open, hoping it was nothing more than a letter from an appreciative customer, he squinted at the barely legible cursive and messaged his temple with a free hand as he struggled to decipher the writing.

He could feel his stress levels double as he finally realized what the messy scribbles spelled out. It seemed, one way of another, that Fred and George had _not_ finished paying off the workers who'd completed the construction of their shop.

He groaned loudly, letting the letter fall back unto the desk, as he began attempting to calculate how best to solve the stores many problems. If they went on this way much longer, they'd lose the store and up bankrupt at the ripe old age of eighteen!

He felt his stomach turn due to the stress, and fished in his drawer until he found a bit of chocolate he deemed safe enough to eat. Biting a large bit off, he sighed in relief when it turned out to be an ordinary bit of candy and not a prank or any sort. Willing the chocolate to work its magic and soothe his stomach, he closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair.

Why, oh why, had he agreed to be the one in charge of all the finances? He might have been just a little bit better with numbers than George was, but by no means did that make him an accountant.

Even now, instead of crunching the numbers, Fred simply stared down at the bills and glowered at the monetary amounts marking the bottom of the pages. As if, by that action alone, they'd miraculously reveal a secret solution to their monetary problems.

Cracking open a bottle of firewhiskey, he took a large swig and pondered out the wisdom of applying for a loan. While both Fred and George hated the idea of not fully possessing their stores, a loan might be just the thing to pull them out of their crises. It might take them a few months to pay it back off, given that interest rates these days were extremely high, but what else could they do? If they'd didn't pay off the money they owned, and very soon, they would have debt collectors lining up at their door to size their store and whatever assets they could get their hands on.

Fred Weasley, despite popular belief, _was_ actually capable of feeling stress. And while it was not often that he was cursed with such an unpleasant emotion, whenever Fred _did_ manage to succumb to such a state of anxiety, the emotion hit him hard and clung unto his being without end until that problem at had been rectified.

He was in such a state now, one setback away from having a complete meltdown. Having always believed that money would be of no issue if he and George did what they loved, the Twins had been completely unprepared to find they were hemorrhaging money. And Fred, for the life of him, could not even begin to understand what that might be.

Business was booming! They were quickly on their way to putting Zonko's out of business! There hadn't even been a single day since the store opened that it went without a steady stream of customers. In fact, for the first few months, people had queued up and waited for a good two hours just to get a chance to shop.

Given all that, Fred found it absolutely absurd that the store should be losing money instead of gaining it. With a frustrated growl, Fred made his way through the freshly swept floor to the far back. Kicking open a closet door, he stomped into the mockery of an office then slumped own into the only chair. Bending over a tiny desk, as that was all they could fit into the closet, he glared down at the stacks of paper littering the furniture.

A particularly serious-looking letter had been tossed atop the untidy heap. Written in bright red ink, it stood out from the rest of the mess of bills and other tedious paperwork. Fred quickly shoved it away, having no need to see it again. He'd already spent an angry hour ranting around the store about the surprise bill- furious to have discovered they were a full three months behind in paying off their property taxes and that legal action would soon be taken if they didn't pay off what they owed the ministry.

Choosing not the stress himself any further by pouring over the small mountain of bills on his desk, he reached atop the pile and grabbed the only piece of unopened mail. Tearing it open, hoping it was nothing more than a letter from an appreciative customer, he squinted at the barely legible cursive and messaged his temple with a free hand as he struggled to decipher the writing.

He could feel his stress levels double as he finally realized what the messy scribbles spelled out. It seemed, one way of another, that Fred and George had _not_ finished paying off the workers who'd completed the construction of their shop.

He groaned loudly, letting the letter fall back unto the desk, as he began attempting to calculate how best to solve the stores many problems. If they went on this way much longer, they'd lose the store and up bankrupt at the ripe old age of eighteen!

He felt his stomach turn due to the stress, and fished in his drawer until he found a bit of chocolate he deemed safe enough to eat. Biting a large bit off, he sighed in relief when it turned out to be an ordinary bit of candy and not a prank or any sort. Willing the chocolate to work its magic and soothe his stomach, he closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair.

Why, oh why, had he agreed to be the one in charge of all the finances? He might have been just a little bit better with numbers than George was, but by no means did that make him an accountant.

Even now, instead of crunching the numbers, Fred simply stared down at the bills and glowered at the monetary amounts marking the bottom of the pages. As if, by that action alone, they'd miraculously reveal a secret solution to their monetary problems.

Cracking open a bottle of firewhiskey, he took a large swig and pondered out the wisdom of applying for a loan. While both Fred and George hated the idea of not fully possessing their stores, a loan might be just the thing to pull them out of their crises. It might take them a few months to pay it back off, given that interest rates these days were extremely high, but what else could they do? If they'd didn't pay off the money they owned, and very soon, they would have debt collectors lining up at their door to size their store and whatever assets they could get their hands on.

In was in desperation that he finally seized upon the plan to sell a few of his teeth. Having heard that Borgin would pay a handsome for those undamaged by rot, Fred thought it would be perfectly prudent to part with one or two of his backmost molars in order to pay off a bill or two. George, he was sure of it, would happily part with a couple as wll. And together, between the two of them, they could stand to make 300 Galleons. A sum handsome enough to get them out of the red zone and into a safer amount of debt.


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N) Did some restructuring of the story, sorry folks.

Persephone left the teashop in quite the sour mood, cursing the very day that Pansy Parkinson had come into being. What Draco saw in the dog-faced shrew, aside from her untarnished lineage, was far beyond her comprehension. Not only had that foul wretch ruined her only day out in weeks, the bitter hag had upset her impromptu date with Asa. One of the very few setups that Persephone had actually enjoyed. Worse yet, she hadn't even had the opportunity to arrange another meeting with Asa, something Persephone had intended to do mere moments after their initial meeting.

Gliding through the thickening crowds without impediment, with the use of an exceedingly powerful repulsion charm, Persephone made her way towards Knockturn Alley. The Christmas holiday was fast approaching and Borgin and Burkes were sure to have stocked its shelves with a myriad of impressive new novelties and trinkets. And sure to be amongst their numbers were books, either of an obscure or rare variety.

Hoping a good find might remedy her sullied humor, Persephone pushed through the heavy doors of the shop, clutching her purse very tightly. As much as most wizards knew not to trifle with the daughter of a high-ranking Death Eater, there was always the foolish pickpocket lurking in wait.

In the very back of the disreputable shop, Borgin stored his ill-gained collection of rare books beneath the infallible safety of a heavily-charmed glass display case. Resembling a coffin in looks, and size, the antique itself would fetch quite the hefty price should Borgin ever be conned into parting with it.

Persephone stared through the gleaming glass, her blood racing in excitement as she spotted a few new additions amongst the aged volumes. One book particular happened to catch her eyes, its yellowed pages bound neatly with faded black leather. It was with much effort, and squinting, that she finally deciphered its title- _The Crafts of Merlin_. Daring to sneak a peek at the price affixed, Persephone breathed a sigh of relief when she saw 20 galleons was all that was asked of it. A very good stewardess of her money, and a tireless worker, Persephone had no major qualms about parting with such a hefty sum of money.

As the case wouldn't open without a drop of blood from the one who possessed it, Persephone glided off in pursuit of Borgin. So long as the grimoire wasn't already spoken for, she'd leave Hogsmeade with it that very day.

Stepping around a rather foul-smelling wizard, Persephone made her way to the checkout counter without hindrance. Queuing up behind a strikingly tall redheaded gentleman, she waited patiently for her turn to arrive. Considerate enough to provide the other customer privacy, Persephone had left two feet of space between them.

As it turned out, the curtesy hadn't been necessary. Clearly uneasy, the Ginger spoke in whispers so low that not even Borgin (who was just inches away) could decrypt their message. Scowling darkly in his annoyance, the shopkeeper leaned forward and hissed menacingly.

"Speak up!" Borgin demanded. "I haven't got all day!"

Again the youth whispered his request, being so bold as to actually whisper in the older man's ear. Understandably, the stranger's freshness was met with a firm smack upside the head.

"Who do you think you are, breathing in my ear like that?!"

Still reeling from the unanticipated blow, the young man staggered backwards a few steps, all the while mute.

"Move off to the side, you half-wit!" Borgin snapped. "I've got more important guests to attend to!"

"Borgin!" Persephone pipped up. "It's quite alright."

At her assurance, the unwelcome customer spun around, revealing himself to be Fred Weasley. His face flushed with irritation and his breathing heavy, Persephone worried the Hogwarts alumni might take his frustrations out upon her.

But her concerns proved unfounded. For at the very moment when their eyes met, his brown to her black, all anger seemed to evaporate from his person. Gone was the furious scowl marring his face and vanquished was the dangerous glint in his eyes, replaced instead with a dopey grin and feverish shine. Quite honestly, the Weasley Boy looked like a man freshly stupefied.

To be perfectly fair, Persephone was almost certain the same look was splayed across her usually stoic countenance. For the breath had caught in her throat, and she could feel her heart as it fluttered madly away within the ribbed confines of her chest. A sudden warmth had rushed to Persephone's cheeks as well, making it plain that she was blushing for the first time ever. Painfully lightheaded and her knees suddenly weak, Persephone swayed, struggling to regain her usually dignified composure. Had it not been for Fred's gentlemanly arm, reaching forward to steady her, Persephone felt certain she'd have toppled to the dirty floor below.


	5. Chapter 5

The unfamiliar girl had gripped his proffered arm without hesitation, gracing his horribly calloused hand with an impossibly soft touch. A jolt of electricity had raced up his arm at the moment of contact, and Fred gave a small gasp the same moment she did. And, it was at the very moment, that Fred Weasley swore he fell in love.

Shamelessly, he stared down into her cherubim face without abandon. She had to have possessed the largest eyes Fred had ever seen on a person- larger, even, than Trelawney's. But, so unlike that half-mad professor, the beauty's eyes possessed a doe-like quality rather than an owlish one. He grinned helplessly, enraptured by the way they seemed to twinkle despite the gloom of the atmosphere. They were, Fred marveled, like pools of star-littered sky- lighting up her alabaster face with a glow that was almost ethereal.

It wasn't until a very long moment had passed, that Fred was able to take in her other features. She wore her long black waves loose, and it all pooled out about her now, like a shimmering curtain. There must have been a good four feet of hair falling from the top of her head, but despite the quantity, none of it appeared to be tangled or split. She wore it devoid of decoration, save for the sparking haircomb she'd tucked just above her ear.

"Are you alright?" He fussed, slowly coming to his senses as he watched the girl sway.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She assured, her drawl soft and sweet. "It's rather hot in here, is all."

Fred nodded, his sudden onset tunnel vision fading away once he remembered to breath. Using the back of his hand to swipe away a few stray beads of sweat, he coughed nervously, suddenly so unsure of himself.

"I'm Fred." He introduced, the words rushed and sloppy as they came from his mouth.

"I'm Persephone." She informed, and the name was music to her ears.

The beauty beamed bashfully then, and Fred found himself distracted by the full lips she'd painted a bright shade of red. Powerless to fight the feelings of euphoria her smile induced, Fred found himself grinning like a fool as he stared at her pearly teeth.

It was a decidedly annoyed cough from Borgin that broke their shared trance, the shopkeeper evidently annoyed with his lack of profit. And, if Fred wasn't mistaken, the shifty man seemed to be rather irritated and unsettled whereas the young lady was concerned. It was with an air of disgust that he glared at Fred's fingers, the members now resting gently against Persephone's back to keep her upright.

"Go on," She coaxed, "You were here first."

"You heard the lady," Borgin snarled, "Out with it."

Fred gave the withered man a dirty look, the shady shopkeeper knowing full-well exactly what he wanted. Having already surrendered Borgin his teeth, the bones still bloody, Fred awaited proper payment. If Borgin thought he would get away with giving him a pitiful handful of Knuts, an insulting amount, he had quite another thing coming.

"You haven't given me what you owe." Fred hissed, his blood boiling.

"Oh, haven't I?" Borgin mocked. "Why don't you go and take it up with the Aurors then?"

"You _know_ I can't." Fred argued, ready to draw his wand on the cheat.

"And just the same, I can't award you anymore money." Borgin smirked. "Do you think I'm running a charity?"

Fred glowered and slammed his meager award unto the wooden counter, the wood threatening to split beneath all the force applied to it. Still in a considerable amount of pain due to his makeshift tooth extraction, Fred was in no mood to be trifled with in regards to something as important as money and the welfare of his business.

"I'm not leaving until I'm paid what I owe." Fred threatened, prepared to get forceful if the need should arise.

"You greedy son of whore!" Borgin cursed, spittle flying from his mouth. "Typical Gryffindor- thinking _his_ teeth are worth more than anyone else's!"

"Ten knuts wouldn't buy a _toenail_ , never mind a couple of teeth!" Fred countered, beginning to see red.

"Ten knuts?" Persephone repeated, looking scandalized. "Borgin, this man should have 300 galleons coming his way!"

Borgin glowered down at the floorboards, biting his cracked lip as he contemplated his next course of action. It was after a painfully long ten minutes had passed that he looked up, a steely glint clouded his beady eyes. Sighing loudly, and slumping his shoulders dejectedly, the black-market enthusiast shook his head and dug into his dusty register.

"Look, the fact of the matter is that I run a business." Borgin reasoned, staring at Persephone as he removed coins.

"I understand that." She agreed, nodding authoritatively.

"So you see," Borgin continued, "I simply _give_ him full price."

"No," Persephone assured, "That would be foolish."

Fred listened on in disbelief, wondering how such a sweet-natured girl could hold such sway over a hardened minor-criminal like Borgin. The only way Fred could reason such a dynamic existed was that Persephone was either family to a very powerful witch or witch or that possessed some very damning blackmail.

"So, I'll give him a hundred. That way we'll _both_ come away happy." Borgin bargained, looking well-pleased with himself.

"Borgin, be reasonable!" Persephone scolded. "He's got a business to run just as much as you do. This gentleman's owed at _least_ two hundred."

"Fine!" Borgin snapped, raining the coins down unto the grimy floorboards. "But see to it that you never show your face in here again, Weasley!"

"I'll be _happy_ to stay away." Fred assured, intending to give the place an even wider berth from now on.

"You're lucky Persephone took a shine to you, or I'd have hexed your face clean off." Borgin hissed, snarling aggressively enough to reveal his crooked teeth.

Fred resisted the urge to hex the ancient shopkeeper for his rudeness but restrained himself for Persephone's sake, not wanting to look like a brute in front of her. Stooping to pick up the spilled Galleons, and cursing Borgin for embarrassing him in such a manner, Fred kept a careful count to make certain he collected every coin. After all, if he'd gone to all the trouble and pains of removing his teeth with a pliers, he was going to get his due.

" _Collegro_."

Persephone drawled slowly, flicking her wand in a complex pattern. All at once the coins flew into the air, the money gathering into a neat grouping. Fred stood, brushing the filth from his robes as he waited to see what the girl's next actions would be. With another deliberate swish of her polished wand, and a muttered word he couldn't make out, Persephone delivered Fred's payment into his pocket.

"Thank you." Fred smiled, greatly appreciative of the young woman's magical prowess.

"Merlin knows the oaf couldn't do that himself." Borgin mumbled, purposely loud enough to be heard.

"Listen here, you-"

Before Fred could verbalize his insult, Persephone stepped in front of him, placing a large book unto the dusty counter.

"Borgin, before I leave, I'd like to purchase this." She informed, removing a threadbare coin purse from her pocket.

"Your father has already bought it," Borgin frowned, "Just take it."

The elderly man shuffled off then, in a hurry to attend to a lummox who was carelessly riffling through a shelf of delicate curios. The shopkeeper hadn't even gotten with three feet of him before a vase-like option was shattered, earning the careless oaf a skin-slicing curse to the face.

"We should go." Persephone advised, narrowly dodging a rebounding hex.

"Good idea." Fred obliged, covering both their backs as they hastily retreated into the relative safety of the crowded streets.

"How does that git stay in business?" Fred wondered, resenting the fact that such a rude man could remain gainfully employed.

"Borgin isn't usually so testy." Persephone defended. "He just gets a little grouchy around the Holidays."

" _Grouchy?"_ Fred scoffed, shivering at an icy blast. "That's not the word I'd use."

"It can be hard not having anyone to spend the Holidays with." Persephone defended, hiding her slender fingers within the pockets of her cloak.

"I suppose." Fred humored, sidestepping a steaming pile of vomit.

A loud silence elapsed then, neither one of them knowing what to say in order to keep their conversation going and neither one willing to part so soon. They stood still beneath the gray clouds, their breath bated, willing the other to offer up some solution to their predicament.

"I hope I'm not being too bold but…"

Fred hesitated, but at Persephone's encouraging (and almost hopeful) smile he mustered up enough courage to continue.

"Would you like to go somewhere for a bite to eat?"

"That sounds lovely." Persephone agreed, her lips turning upward. "But shouldn't you be getting back to George?"

"He's off on a date." Fred answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"But what about your shop?" Persephone worried, her well-groomed brows furrowing.

"Don't worry about it." Fred grinned. "We closed up early today."

"Well then," Persephone purred, "Where are we going?"

"How about the Three Broomsticks?" Fred suggested. "I could use a drink, too."

"Alright." Persephone smiled then, and her eyes twinkled brightly despite the gloom of the day.

With that, Fred shuffled away, eager to be out of such a frigid atmosphere. Persephone, however, remained rooted to the spot. And when Fred looked back to investigate why that might be, he saw insult plastered across her pretty face. He was quick to rake his mind, desperate to figure out what wrong he'd committed, when Persephone answered him by way of lifting her arm.

"Oh!" Fred nearly tripped over his feet hurrying to her. "How rude of me!" He felt his face color again, and he quickly held out his arm to her. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's quite alright." She acquiesced, looking slightly less insulted. "Clearly you've not spent much time with Slytherins."

Fred nearly jerked away from her in surprise, but forced himself to remain cool by sheer willpower alone. As surreptitiously as he could, Fred stared down at her, struggling to recall if he'd ever seen such a girl in the corridors of Hogwarts.

But that thought that he, _Fred Weasley¸_ wouldn't remember a girl that pretty was nothing short of absurd- regardless of whatever House she might have been placed in. The only logical answer was Persephone was just a tad bit younger than Fred had originally suspected. But just _how_ young was she then? Gorgeous though the dark-eyed beauty was, Fred wasn't eager to get himself into any legal trouble.

"How _old_ did you say you were?" He pressed, trying his luck at sounding nonchalant.

"I'll turned seventeen on the Fourth." She smiled, obviously amused at his lack of subtly.

It was currently the fifteenth of January, and Fred relaxed.

"I'm finding it hard to believe that I never noticed a girl like you in school." Fred flirted, earning himself an appreciative grin.

"Well, to be fair I'm not _technically_ a Slytherin." Persephone amended. "My father was one, I just figured that makes me one by default."

Fred was still a bite taken aback at the confession, unable to believe that even the tiniest bit of serpent's blood ran through her body. It was simply impossible, Fred reasoned, entirely implausible. Persephone's smile came far too easily for that to be a reality, and she looked absolutely _nothing_ like the hordes of pureblood aristocrats fouling up the dungeons of Hogwarts or polluting the alleyways of Knockturn Alley.

Most contradicting of all, Persephone was standing there and talking openly with him, when Fred was a well-known and despised blood-traitor. The only logical possibility that Fred could arrive at, for Persephone being so sweet despite her alleged upbringing, was that somehow she had defied her conditioning and blossomed into a decent person all on her own- just as Sirius had done.

"So you didn't go to Hogwarts." Fred repeated, wanting Persephone to understand he was listening. "Where _did_ you go?"

"No, I _did_. But it was more of an independent study." She explained. "I actually graduated two years ago." She added, looking a bit bashful.

"At _fifteen_?"

Fred gaped openly at Persephone. Because Hermione, according to the majority of professors at Hogwarts, was the brightest witch of her age. And up until now, Fred had found no reason to disagree with any of them. But here stood Persephone claiming to have graduated a full two years before the standard age, when Hermione herself hadn't even been _offered_ such an option.

"Really, it's not that impressive." Persephone insisted, fighting to remain modest.

"I've never heard of anyone graduating early." Fred refuted. "You must be absolutely brilliant."

"Dumbledore did." Persephone insisted, desperate to change the subject.

"So what did a genius like you do after graduation?" Fred asked, eager to know more about the porcelain-skinned princess.

"I've been tutoring on and off."

"Oh?" Fred asked. "What subjects?"

"Everything." Persephone elaborated. "And just last year I began giving violin lessons."

"I bet you've made a fortune." Fred commented, looking at her sparkling haircomb.

"Oh yes, there is very good money to be made with tutoring." She nodded. "At _worst_ , I was making three galleons an hour."

"I wish _I_ had that kind of money coming in." Fred muttered, only half-joking.

"I'm sure your shop is doing just fine." Persephone encouraged. "It's always so busy."

"Yeah…"

Despite himself, an awkward silence elapsed, Persephone having unfortunately noticed the way Fred's face fell at the mention of his store. But even though he'd been clearly caught, her sympathetic expression assuring him of such a fact, he went for broke and forced a cheesy grin unto his face.

"Fred," Persephone stalled, "Forgive me if I cross a line, but if you need bookkeeping help I'd be happy to assist. I've always loved Arithmancy."

"No." Fred said firmly, breaking the sudden seriousness with a small smile. "It's not your headache."

"I really wouldn't mind." Persephone promised, fluttering her lashes upward at him.

"I'm sure." Fred assured. "Besides, I'm famished. I need food more than anything."

"We should get going then." Persephone laughed, flashing him a smile. "I wouldn't want you to starve."


	6. Chapter 6

"It's freezing!" Persephone muttered, pressing herself closer to Fred in an obvious attempt to gleam some of his warmth.

"We're not far." Fred encouraged, placing a protective arm about her waist as they started to slide across a particularly slippery patch of ice.

"I really shouldn't complain." She shuddered, her cheeks already beginning to take on a rosy glow. "This is _perfect_ weather to brew moonbeam oil."

Fred nodded, recalling the winter of his fifth year at Hogwarts. Snape, in his typical evil fashion, had made Him, George and Lee harvest reclusive moon herbs from the Forbidden Forest on one of the coldest and darkest nights of the year. And all because the Greasy Git had caught them in the act of charming his office bright pink and lacked the humor to appreciate such a harmless prank.

"Those things have got some wicked thorns." Fred grumbled, recalling the way he'd cut his thumb wide open on their razor-thin barbs.

"Sharper than obsidian." Persephone informed. "They could cut right through a person's bone if they weren't carefu-"

Without warning, a strong gust of wind raced across the village to push at their knees with incredible force. It was with a loud yelp that Persephone went down, her robes bellowing up high enough to reveal a flash of purple knickers.

With quidditch-honed reflexes, Fred managed to catch Persephone just before she collided with the hard, wet ground. But despite having steeled himself to bear the brunt of her weight, Fred faltered and gave a loud gasp as his feet lost purchase in the snow. Giving an unseemly grunt as one of his knees struck solid ice, Fred quickly resituated himself and fortunately managed to steady himself before he dropped the girl.

"That was quite a catch!" Persephone breathed, a look of wonder coming to rest on her face.

"I was about to say the same thing." He flirted.

That having been said, Fred carefully climbed back to his feet with Persephone still in his arms. Almost immediately, the beautiful young woman gave a loud gasp. Clearly fearful that she might fall or be dropped, Persephone went stiff and wrapped her arms tightly about Fred's neck.

"Relax." Fred soothed, starting to trudge through the snow once more. "I've got you."

"Quite literally." Persephone drawled, a small but strained smile turning up the corner of her lips as she tried to heed Fred's advice.

Just then another powerful shock of wind tore through the village, prompting Persephone to bury her icy fingers beneath the collar of his cloak. Fred responded by holding her even closer to his chest, offering her whatever warmth he had left to give. Persephone flashed him an appreciative smile, then quickly buried her face in Fred's neck to stave of the bite of the howling wind.

Thankfully, the two of them reached the Three Broomsticks before frostbite could claim either of them as its victim. Quickly nudging the door open with his foot, Fred hurried through the door before either of them froze to death. Sighing in relief as the warmth returned feeling to his skin, Fred carefully settled Persephone down on the floorboards.

"Much better." She smiled, smoothing out her wind-tossed hair.

Fred nodded in agreement and blew on his fingers in an attempt to warm them.

"You know, a lady could grow accustomed to being carried like that." She joked, peering up at him with mirth shining in her dark eyes.

"Well, I can't say that I minded." Fred returned, removing Persephone's cloak for her.

He was just about to hang it beside the door, where dozens of other cloaks hung waiting for their owners, when she made a noise of protest and pulled the garment back to herself.

"Thank you," She smiled, "But this cloak is sable. I don't want it left unattended."

"I'll carry it for you, then." Fred announced, leaving no room for argument.

Fred carefully draped the soft cloak across his shoulder before holding his arm out to Persephone. Seemingly pleased that she needn't have asked this time, she wrapped her slender fingers about Fred's muscular arm and allowed him to guide her through the jam-packed crowds to the front of the pub.

"I'd like a cider." Persephone announced, looking up at him expectantly.

"Good choice." Fred complimented, waving his free arm about to flag down Madame Rosemerta.

Given that Fred and George were two of her favorite customers, the bubbly bar matron hurried over to the section of bar they stood behind despite having already having a crowd three deep of customers there before them.

"What can I get you and your lady friend?" She hummed, cheerful despite the stress of a packed tavern.

"I'll have a shot of firewhiskey and she'll take a mug of cider." Fred answered, handing over a galleon. "Keep the change."

"I'll be right back." Rosemerta promised, before hurrying off to fill their drinks.

"It's even busier than I thought it would be." Persephone muttered, frowning heavily as a drunken wizard toppled off his barstool to the floor beside her.

"I'll find us somewhere to sit." Fred promised, grabbing himself a fistful of beer nuts.

Resigning himself to the fact that they would likely serve as his supper, Fred decided it would be necessary to visit his Mum soon. Not only was he missing her terribly, he and George were in dire need of one of her quality meals and the leftovers that resulted.

"Here you are." Rosemerta returned quickly, handing them their drinks with a wide smile.

"That looks delicious." Fred informed Persephone, staring down at her steaming mug.

"I'm sure it is." She agreed, smiling up at Rosemerta. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Well aren't you a polite thing?" The barmaid praised, grinning fondly before she hurried off into the crowd.

"I think I see a free table." Fred encouraged, making his best attempt at steering them through the crowd of drunken patrons without incident.

"We'd better hurry to it," Persephone remarked, "Before it's taken."


	7. Chapter 7

Persephone allowed Fred to guide her to a rickety table in the corner of the tavern without complaint, eager to be off her sore feet and glad to see that it boasted only two seats. Sharing a table with a drunkard, much less personal space, was far from her list of favored activities. It was bad enough to simply be in the same building of so many such persons, with the yeasty stench of their beers befouling the air.

"Are you alright?" Fred worried, giving her a concerned look.

"I'm fine," She smiled, pressing a perfumed handkerchief to her nose, "Thank you."

Fred nodded, then picked his nails in a sudden fit of nervousness. Persephone smiled, trying to put the charming young man at ease despite her own mild discomfort. He was putting in a great effort to entertain her, after all. And aside from the disastrous blind date Narcissa had set her up on, this was the first time she'd begun to regard a boy in a romantic manner.

"That's a pretty color." Fred mumbled into his drink, blushing slightly.

"Hmm?" She asked, distracted from her thoughts of how unexpectedly this afternoon had gone.

"That's a pretty color on you." Fred spoke up, unable to meet her gaze.

"Oh." She exclaimed softly, suddenly warm. "Thank you."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke, both of them overcome with the sudden nervousness such an intimate setting brought forth. So Fred fiddled away with his jagged fingernails and Persephone busied herself with sipping her cider.

"So…Where does the name Persephone come from?" Fred stuttered out, taking a deep breath as he finished.

"Daddy enjoys his books," Persephone began, "And Persephone was one of his favorite characters."

"From what book?" Fred wonders, finally letting his nails be.

"She was a goddess." Persephone giggled. "A Greek one."

"She must have been the goddess of beauty."

Fred smiled, evidently having recovered his confidence as he snaked a hand across the table to capture one of hers. Persephone felt a jolt race up her arm at the contact, but happily allowed it, giving the calloused hand a brief squeeze in way of encouragement.

"She was the goddess of the underworld, actually."

"Oh!" Fred's eyes went wide in embarrassment. "How…unique."

"She was a very powerful woman." Persephone was quick to defend her Father's choice of name. "And clever, too."

"I guess I shouldn't be so quick to assume." Fred apologized, sincerely contrite.

"It's alright." Persephone dismissed, not at all offended.

"So, your father reads a lot then?" Fred asked, still nursing his firewhiskey.

"When he has the time." Persephone frowned. "He's even busier than I am."

Even before the second uprising of Voldemort, her father had kept a tightly stacked schedule. When he wasn't busy brewing for various colleagues (or to supplement his modest income) he'd been grading homework or attending to his Head of House duties- even during the summer break. And then it had seemed every bit of spare moment in between those important duties had been eclipsed with all the highly secretive meetings Albus forced her father to attend for hours on end.

"What does he do for a living then?"

Persephone took a longer sip than necessary of her cider, wondering how to answer Fred's innocent question without revealing her Father's identity. It wasn't that she was embarrassed, she _loved_ her Daddy dearly. It was just that a man such as he had a certain…reputation. And it was far from a pleasant one to most who knew him.

"He's a Potion's Master."

"Does he work for the Ministry then?" Fred pressed, sitting up a bit. "Maybe our Fathers know each other."

"No, he works in a more educational setting." Persephone corrected.

"Does he tutor, too?"

"Sometimes."

Persephone smiled, happy she could be perfectly honest in that regard. And whether the tutoring sessions were consensual or compulsory, there certainly _was_ plenty of those sessions being had in the dungeons of Hogwarts.

"What about your Mum?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

The words came out faster and more severely than she'd intended, and Fred frowned a bit at the sudden change.

"I'm sorry," She frowned, "It's just a sore subject is all."

And that was putting it lightly. Loath though she was to admit it, Persephone had been sired in the midst of a sordid affair originally meant to provide comfort in the midst of a bloody war. But alas, Muggle means had failed to preserve the secrecy of the tryst and a pureblooded woman was left pregnant with a child that didn't belong to her husband.

And in true prejudiced fashion, once the crime was discovered the illegitimate child was refused access to both mother and manor- simply for the fact that Persephone's father had possessed tainted blood. Had that not been the case, the aristocratic husband might have accepted protocol and pretended Persephone was really his seed- despite the rare features of the baby that might have defied such a lie.

As it was, Persephone had only been told of her mother's identity and not much else; Lucille Nott, the long-suffering wife of Cantankerous Nott and proud mother to her son Theodore Nott. Seemingly happy enough to forget her firstborn child, Lucille evidently enjoyed classical music and gardening. Anything other than that was a mystery, her Father not willing to speak of the woman who'd wronged his much-loved child.

And aside from a few photographs, Persephone had only seen her mother once- and that had been in passing. Daddy had been accompanying her to Hogsmeade, the time having finally arrived for her to receive her wand. Everything had gone so well that morning; the breakfast they had shared in the Hogshead Inn, the earrings Daddy had bought her from Borgin's shop, the wand receiving itself.

It had been as they left the wand shop, Persephone's wand neatly tucked away in the bejeweled case Narcissa had bought her for the occasion. The blonde-haired woman had been strolling down the street, hand-in-hand with the child she had decided worthy of keeping. She'd been beautiful for sure, her large blue eyes twinkling in the light of the afternoon soon. And her hair had been just as lovely, the blonde waves flouncing back and forth as she laughed with Persephone's half-brother.

"I'm sorry." Fred apologized again.

"No, it's alright." Persephone insisted, casting him a wavering smile. "Your dad works for the Ministry, right?"

"Yeah," Fred nodded, "Magical Artifacts. He can't get enough of them."

"Muggle objects aren't all that different from Magical, especially now with all the technological advances." Persephone commented, thinking of all the muggle appliances that made life so much easier.

"Maybe," Fred agreed, "But there's only so much you can do without magic."

"Fair enough." Persephone agreed, thinking of all the benefits of being a witch.

"So, are you muggleborn then?" Fred asked, out of curiosity and not fear of the answer.

"That's an awfully rude question to ask someone." Persephone scolded lightly. "But no, I'm pureblood."

"I'm sorry," Fred started, "But I just _don't_ see it."

"See what?" Persephone wondered.

"How you could be a pureblood." Fred elaborated. "You're just so… _nice_."

"There are plenty of nice purebloods, Fred." Persephone frowned. "They have all types of personalities, just like any other group of people."

"Well, maybe." Fred shrugged, not looking convinced. "But those are exceptions to the rule, is all."

"And what rule is that?" Persephone demanded, slightly put off.

"I didn't mean to be offensive-" Fred defended, looking alarmed at her sudden change in temperament.

"That doesn't mean you weren't!" Persephone chastised, considering leaving the date early.

"I'm sorry." Fred insisted, looking slightly wounded.

Whether it was the sincere look in his eyes, or Persephone's saint-like patience, she decided to stay a while longer. If she could still enjoy Draco's company despite his obvious prejudices against those without pureblood, she could give Fred another opportunity to bounce back from this setback.

And could she really blame him anymore than she could blame the other side for their faults and prejudices? How could she? Both sides had understandable, if not questionable, reasons for their hostilities. The 'Light' had always fancied itself the unelected leaders of the Wizarding World, and the 'Dark' had always resented the fact and refused to be governed by a frequently oppressive governing body. And after the first war, it was only reasonable those prejudices and resentments had increased.


	8. Chapter 8

Four hours had gone by without another incident, and Fred thanked his lucky stars that a girl as perfect as Persephone had considered him worthy of her time and (if he wasn't being too assuming) her blossoming affections. Everything about her, Fred marveled, was what he never knew he wanted in a girl. Persephone was not only beautiful, but clever and patient. And, perhaps most important of all, she possessed a wicked sense of humor as well as an excellent command of sarcasm.

Even now Persephone sat close to him, her sugary perfume wafting into his nose with every small movement she made. Her large eyes were alert, too, and focused on his own- making it perfectly clear that Persephone was actually paying attention to him and not just politely bidding her time until she could find a way to excuse herself without causing him offense.

"Are you certain you're not a Veela?" Fred flirted, daring to brush a stray wisp of hair away from Persephone's brow.

"I'm positive." Persephone grinned, her pale face lighting up at the compliment.

Fred smiled back in turn, momentarily distracted by the sudden realization that she possessed the pretties set of dimples he'd ever seen on a girl. He grasped for his drink, desperate to recover his cool before Persephone could notice the dopey look on his face.

Unfortunately, she did notice, a soft giggle escaping her lips as Fred nearly toppled his third tumbler of firewhiskey. But all at once, he realized it hadn't been a laugh at his expense, but rather an expulsion of the same nervous energy he himself was feeling. In way of confirming this, that she wasn't mocking him for his clumsiness, Persephone reached across the table and grasped one of his hands- giving it a reassuring squeeze for added emphasis.

"You wouldn't lie to me would you?" Fred recovered, scooting his chair just a tiny bit closer to her. "About being a Veela?"

"No," Persephone promised, "In fact, I'm actually painfully honest."

"Oh," Fred asked, playfully waggling a brow, "Really?"

"I assure you, what I said was a fact." Persephone repeated, fluttering her lashes demurely.

"Then tell me this," Fred smirked, feeling bold, "How do you think our date is going?"

Another soft blush gave color to her cheeks, but Persephone resolutely met his gaze with a determined look.

"I've never had any better." She admitted, following Fred's example by moving her chair closer to his.

"Me either." Fred breathed, throwing an arm around her slender shoulders.

She leaned into the contact, and a slight chill ran through Fred's body at the contact. He'd never felt such a feeling before, not even with Alicia or Angelina. Dating them, he now realized, had been nothing but childish attraction and lust. With Persephone it was something much more mature, something purer. A sensation closer to adoration than it was youthful horniness.

"When's your next day off?" Fred asked, playing with a lock of her hair.

"I have Sunday morning off." Persephone offered, resting her perfect little head upon his broad shoulder.

"Let's have brunch." Fred suggested hopefully.

"I have a tutoring session at nine-thirty." Persephone frowned.

Fred grimaced, then was immediately grateful that his date had blinked at that exact moment. He'd have to wake up unreasonably early then, that was all there was to it- even if it meant rising before double digits on his day off.

"How about breakfast then?" Fred compromised.

"Sounds _lovely_ to me." Persephone accepted, beaming up into his face with a breath-taking smile.

"Anywhere specific you'd like to go?" Fred inquired, shooing away Rosemerta who'd been bustling towards them with a fresh bowl of peanuts.

"Here is alright." Persephone assured, nuzzling into his side. "We can meet at seven."

"Seven it is." Fred repeated, playing with the rings on her dainty fingers.


	9. Chapter 9

Persephone arrived back home well after suppertime had elapsed, a fact that pleased her father to no end as he'd no doubt been greatly concerned his beloved daughter would return early from another Narcissa-arranged date- surely earning him yet another unwarranted lecture from said blonde witch about his 'selfish encouragement of his daughter's singleness.'

He was reading a newly purchased book in his favorite recliner, his usual glass of wine half-gone and a sleepy expression softening his face. Judging from the nearly depleted bottle of elf-wine sitting on the antique end table beside him, Daddy had been celebrating his child's successful outing in earnest.

Persephone was well aware that she wore a look of pure ecstasy on her face, and that her feathery footsteps were much lighter than usual. But what could she do? In the space of less than half a day, Fred Weasley had stolen her heart. And she didn't care who knew it, least of all Daddy, whom she loved more than anything else in this world.

"I know that look." Daddy drawled, almost sloppily, as he rose to his feet in order to greet his daughter with a kiss to the cheek.

"What look is that, Daddy?" Persephone teased, not bother to hide her elation.

"You're smitten." He accused, catching her infection joy. "Absolutely smitten."

He grinned widely then, large enough to reveal the dimples Persephone hadn't seen in months. Understandably, he was still laboring under the delusion that the object of her affection was Asa Greengrass (a young man whom he respected) and not Fred Weasley, an impish Gryffindor he had absolutely despised teaching.

It was then and there that Persephone decided she hadn't the heart to burst her father's little bubble of joy, at least not that night. After all, coupled with the aid of a bottle of wine, the war-weary man might actually sleep well for once. It would be selfish to bombard him with news that would distress him, simply unconscionable.

"I am!" She admitted, clutching her heart and swooning at the still-fresh memory of Fred's laughter on her ears.

"I've never seen you like this!" Daddy slurred, his lids heavy but filled with excitement.

"I've never _felt_ like this." Persephone sighed happily, fetching away the bottle of wine from her father- who'd made to top of his now empty glass.

Unphased, Daddy simply leaned back further in his chair and closed his eyes. Patting the arm of the furniture, to indicate that he'd like his daughter to sit, he smiled dreamily and pulled a yellow throw over himself.

"I knew you'd like him, Sephie." Daddy murmured, seemingly self-satisfied.

"Asa was the perfect gentleman," Persephone assured, completely honest, "I was very glad we had the chance to meet."

"Narcissa is going to be so pleased." Daddy continued, his eyes still shut. "We were so worried about you."

"Worried," Persephone frowned, unaware of such a fact, "Whatever for?"

"We thought you might be getting lonely…" He confessed, his wine-saturated breath filling her nose.

"Lonely," She scoffed, "But I've had you all these years."

Daddy scowled then, cracking one dark eye open slowly to look at her.

"That's no way for a person to live." Daddy refuted, struggling to get his words out despite his wine-heavy tongue. "I kept you locked up like a nun in a convent."

"Daddy, it was for safety." Persephone comforted. "I understand-"

"No," Daddy frowned, "You should have been out having fun, not holed up with your Father."

"You're drunk." Persephone scolded, grabbing a heavier blanket off the sofa and throwing it over the half-asleep man. "I'll have you know you've been nothing but a perfect father."

"You're too good to me, Sephie." Daddy murmured, sinking even further into his chair.

Knowing she would be unable to help the man upstairs into his bedroom, despite his small frame, Persephone left him to fall asleep as he was. Hopeful that the wine and the good news would actually give him a full night of sleep, she jabbed her wand at the fireplace and lowered the flames before climbing upstairs and into her own bedroom.

Having been given the master bedroom long ago, Persephone had opted to paint over the graying walls with a healthier shade of cream, leaving the accenting décor a lovely shade of lavender. But although it was hopelessly bright and cheery amongst the gloomy black-and-white schematic of the rest of the house, the dozens upon hundreds of books crammed into every available space tied it neatly into the overall theme of the cramped home- which was that of a highly intellectual nature.

Lazily donning an oversized shirt of her fathers for a nightgown, Persephone slowly crept into bed and shimmied beneath the fading purple quilt that had once belonged to her grandmother. Snatching up the book she'd just gotten from Borgin and Burkes, she cracked open the aged tomb and sought to entertain herself for the next few hours. It was only eight, after all, and far too early for a girl of seventeen to go to bed. Not only that, but she'd also inherited her father's terrible insomnia, often going days without sleep as a result.

But tonight was different. Without a doubt, Persephone knew the sweet release of sleep would find her. Just like Daddy had been lulled into slumber by wine, so too had Persephone, by the infectious kiss of first love. Smiling warmly to herself, she burrowed into her small mound of pillows, dreamily wondering if Fred was sharing the same thoughts and feelings.


	10. Chapter 10

As expected, when Persephone crept downstairs for breakfast, Daddy was already seated with his mug of black coffee before him and a meager breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs settled neatly on the table. Neither one of them very big eaters, the small offering more than sufficed, with half of the food often finding itself as a treat for the countless stray cats that littered the streets of Spinner's End.

Snatching a half slice of toast, Persephone slathered it in grape jam and forced herself to consume the bread in its entirety. Hungry or not, one still had to eat in order to keep up their strength. Merlin knew, Persephone would need all the energy she could get for today. Booked far more than she usually was for the next sixteen hours, mostly with intentionally stupid twits that seemed determined to remain mediocre, only the thoughts of Holiday Pay kept her from feigning illness.

"When do you leave, Princess?" Daddy drawled, nursing his steaming coffee carefully.

"Fifteen minutes." She answered, pushing away a third of her uneaten breakfast as the thought of her endless day of work unsettled her stomach.

"Who are you calling on first?" Daddy wondered, contemplating the small spoonful of eggs on his plate with a weary air.

"Obadiah Burke." She drawled, stealing a sip of coffee from his mug.

"The tiny first-year?" Daddy muttered, rejecting his eggs by pushing them away.

"Yes," She nodded, "The Hat put him in Hufflepuff."

Daddy frowned sympathetically, feeling for the poor pure-blood child who'd been made an outcast by the whims of a hat crafted in medieval time. Mocked cruelly by the Slytherin's for his perceived lack of character in being placed in a house so blaring opposite of their own, and not allowed to befriend the Hufflepuff's by order of his parents, the poor child really was in a hard place.

"He's not been having a pleasant year, to say the least." He contributed.

Persephone nodded, having already resolved to go uncharacteristically easy on the unlucky boy. If nothing else, when the time came for Persephone to give her review of the day's lesson to his parents, she'd certainly sugar-coat it.

"What would your students say," Persephone teased, summoning her purse, "if they heard you defending a Hufflepuff?'"

"They wouldn't live to tell the tale." Daddy shrugged, rising as Persephone did in order to kiss her on the cheek. "When will you be home?"

"Just before midnight." She assured. "I have an astronomy lesson to teach the Selwyn brothers."

"I'll be in the company of…the Dark Lord." Daddy hesitated, helping Persephone into her cloak.

Persephone stiffened, always wary when the Dark Lord called on her father unexpectedly. More often than not, the result was never a happy one. Whether the demagogue was furious with his lower minions for failing him, or cross with Daddy for some perceived slight, the results of such unplanned meetings usually involved a cruciatus or two.

"When were your notified?" She questioned, her stomach knotting painfully.

"A few hours ago." Daddy answered, a tired look aging his face.

"Do you have reason to be worried?" She pressed, already in danger of running late but far from caring.

"I believe the Dark Lord is frustrated with the lack of progress in obtaining that which he desires very much." Daddy summarized. "And I believe he will find that I share a portion of the blame for that."

"And what," Persephone asked slowly, "Do you believe will be done to you?"

"Seeing as the blame will fall chiefly with others," Daddy explained, "I will escape relatively unharmed, with only a few cruciatus curses to show for it."

"Are you certain?" Persephone interrogated. "I don't want to return from a grueling day of work only to find you passed out in the kitchen."

Daddy blushed, ashamed at the memory of his daughter finding him lying in a helpless heap atop the kitchen floor last year. Needlessly guilty, he looked at his boots, struggling to find the inexistent words to reassure his daughter all would be find.

"I'll be fine, Princess." Daddy promised. "I'm far too valuable for the Dark Lord to kill, he _knows_ that."

"You'll send word to be the _moment_ you leave and the _second_ you return." Persephone ordered, leaving no room for discussion.

"As you wish." Daddy obliged, giving her another kiss to the cheek.

Despite wanting nothing more than to just stay behind and await her father's return, Persephone sighed in defeat an apparated away into the remote confines of Burke Manor- an impressive stretch of wooded property in the heart on Romania. If anything, perhaps the trials of teaching a depressed little boy to cast a cheering charm would distract her from the nagging worry about her Father's well-being.

Gliding down the barely distinguishable path through the dark woods, Persephone shivered and pulled her cloak tighter about herself. Why the medieval Burke family thought it acceptable to set impenetrable anti-apparating wards was far beyond her understanding. Not only was it highly unnecessary, it was impracticable to boot. Not even the Malfoy's had such a large parameter closed to apparition.

Per usual, the weathered old hag employed to greet visitors answered the door, her rancid breath assaulting Persephone's senses in a most disagreeable fashion. Blinking as the stench drew water to her eyes, she cleared her throat and stepped into the incense-saturated air of the grand foyer.

"Ms. Snape," The hag croaked, "Young Master Burke will see you on the terrace."

"Thank you, Calliope." Persephone smiled, slipping a small sickle into her palm in way of a tip.

"You are a very generous lady, Ms. Snape.' Calliope creaked. "Right this way, please."

Despite being well-acquainted with where the veranda was, having been tutoring young Obadiah since last year, Persephone willingly trailed after the slowly-moving woman. It wouldn't be very polite to just rush past her, especially not when it wasn't her fault that she was well past a hundred and not as limber as she once was.

"I'll have tea brought out to you presently, Ms. Snape."

"Thank you."

With that assurance, the hag pushed the doors to the veranda open and then shuffled off to acquire the promised beverages. Shivering in the crisp air, and wondering why they Obadiah to take his lessons in one of the many studies within the house, Persephone smiled warmly at the youth and settled herself in a seat equipped with a warming charm.


	11. Chapter 11

For the first time in her life, Persephone had found herself slacking at work. Distracted about her Father's potential well-being, poor Obadiah Burke got the short end of the stick. Already horribly depressed because of the shunning at school, and neglect at home, the poor Hufflepuff struggled to even understand the basic theory behind the Cheering Charm. It wasn't until Persephone forced herself to calm down and refocus did the lesson even take off as it was supposed to. As it turned out, all Obi needed was someone to vent his feelings to. After that, everything was just golden and Persephone was able to honestly give a glowing report to Mrs. Burke.

After that the rest of the morning went by in a blur, with Persephone hardly having time to breathe much less use the loo in between lessons. It wasn't until her lunchtime lesson with Cassidy Fawley did she finally have time to relax and enjoy the sun that had just poked out from behind the heavy clouds of earlier morning.

"How did your date with Asa go?" Cassidy chattered, licking the frosting from her Madame Puddifoot's cupcake needlessly seductively as a gaggle of recent graduates passed by the window of the café.

"It went exceedingly well," Persephone admitted, picking at her own cupcake with a dainty fork, "Asa is a perfect gentleman."

Cassidy raised a blonde brow, giving Persephone a withering look that betrayed disbelief.

"I heard Pansy Parkinson ruined it for you." Cassidy remarked casually.

Persephone scowled, stabbing her cupcake more sharply than intended. Just thinking about that dog-face shrew was enough to twist her stomach up. And if Draco didn't come to his senses soon enough and leave the cow for a nicer girl like Astoria Greengrass, Persephone was going to have to resort to some heavy meddling to get rid of the Pansy Problem.

"I may not like _any_ of Draco's mates," Persephone drawled, "But by far, she is the worst of the bunch."

"Merlin help me, I don't know why she's so mean." Cassidy agreed, taking a tiny sip of tea.

"I imagine some people are just born that way." Persephone shrugged, wanting to move on to more pleasant topics.

Understanding the expression on Persephone's face, her best mate quickly cleared her throat and appeared to rack her brilliant mind for a different conversation starter. Always one to know everyone else's business, Cassidy was sure to spout out the latest bit of juicy gossip just as soon as she'd swallowed her tea and reapplied her lipstick.

"I hear the Weasley Twins are sure to lose their shop, any day now." Cassidy divulged, leaning forward just a bit to whisper. "They owe a _lot_ of money to _all_ the wrong people."

Despite herself, Persephone startled a bit and nearly topped her half-empty mug of coffee across the crisp, white tablecloth.

"But people have been lining up for hours just to get _inside_ , how can they be struggling?"

"Well, you know what they say." Cassidy dismissed. "Gryffindor's are _terrible_ at managing businesses."

"Fair enough." Persephone agreed. "But I'm sure they'll get things squared away. They seem like nice boys."

Cassidy scoffed, her blue eyes shooting upward towards the pink ceiling.

"They're handsome enough, I'll give them that." Cassidy nodded. "But I think it's just… _disgusting_ how they share that Johnson girl between themselves."

Persephone shook her head, unable to believe that either Weasley Twin or Angelina Johnson would debase themselves by such behavior. From what she gained of Daddy's annoyed rants about his students, they were 'good enough kids,' but dreadfully annoying and wasteful of their intelligence.

"I don't believe it." Persephone disagreed, trying hard to not seem too vested in one of the objects of their conversation.

"Believe it or not, I don't care." Cassidy assured, looking bored. "But you simply cannot deny the fact that they're womanizers."

"Where do you hear this nonsense?" Persephone laughed, unable to believe anything negative about the boy who'd stolen her heart.

"It's true!" Cassidy insisted, becoming more animated as she gossiped. "Delia Flint went on a date with George Weasley and he grabbed her boob behind the Whomping Willow!"

"Why would Delia even agree to go out with George?" Persephone pressed. "Her father would _kill_ her if he found out."

"It's an excitement thing." Cassidy informed. "A Forbidden Fruit Complex."

"Just because George got fresh with Delia, doesn't mean Fred is like that." Persephone defended. "Besides, we _both_ know Delia isn't exactly a…"

"A prude?" Cassidy supplied.

"I wouldn't use that word," Persephone blushed, uncomfortable about bullying anybody save Pansy, "But…I'm sure it was consensual. That's all I'm saying."


End file.
